Mute
by HHHereComesTrouble
Summary: The words are taken from him...but the love? The love is something that will never go away...HHH/Steph.
1. Farewell, Words

So, this is centered on when RVD kinda botched a Frog Splash on Trips back in 2002. I sort of put a different spin on it though, and the aftermath doesn't exactly follow what happened, hence the term fan-_fiction_. Heh. It's sort of different, and it's only a two-parter, so here's the first part, and I hope to have the second part up later this week. :)

Note: Triple H and Stephanie aren't 'together' to begin with, just to be clear...

* * *

He couldn't tell her.

Not because he didn't want to or he didn't know how to, but because he simply _couldn't. _It physically was not possible right now, and maybe not ever. Dry blood and a heavy perspiration stained the entirety of his tanned skin. Tiny pieces of confetti decorated his battered body, which was only clothed in his tiny wrestling trunks. Every single joint and muscle was throbbing with unbearable ache. It was a kind of pain so excruciating that the sensation was almost numbing. His eyes, he couldn't open them. It was as if his lids were glued together by not only the residual blood, but the fear brewing inside of him.

He just…he just couldn't open them. Never mind the agonizingly bright ceiling lights; it was _her_ he didn't want to face. He couldn't risk seeing the concerned stare, the tears that may or may not threaten to fall. Don't get him wrong; he loved knowing that she cared, but her grieving was hard for his heart to handle. Seeing her all choked up was…he couldn't…he couldn't deal with that. Tears plus Stephanie completely tore him up inside, especially when she was crying for his sake. But really, how could he blame her?

Here he was, lying with a broken body and a broken soul, his fate still unknown. The swelling in his throat was making this all the more real by the moment though. Bad bumps were expected in this business, but he'd never experienced anything this severe, this life-threatening. The doctors were blunt – sympathetic, but blunt. Even in his slightly conscious state, their words rang loud and clear in his ears. The chances of him making it out of this with absolutely no internal damage were slim to none. And after having a few hours to come to terms with this reality, well, quite simply, he hated it. He hated it so much and suddenly found himself wallowing in his own misery.

Paul groaned, but instantly regretted it upon feeling the pain in his neck intensify. His eyes shot open, only to find that he was alone in the hospital room, hooked up to various beeping machines, tubes, and whatnot. Fuck this. Opening his eyes was nothing. The real remorse sinking in was in regards to his past. Their past. The truth was that he may never speak again, and the love of his life was God knows where…still unaware that he loved her.

He physically couldn't tell her, but he had to. Stephanie needed to know. After an unsuccessful romance and many years of friendship, he needed to say those three words to her, even if they were the last three words he ever spoke.

"PAUL!"

The sharp shriek somewhat startled him, but mostly made him cringe as he recognized the source of it. Time to face the music. Hands shaking and bottom lip trembling, the tall brunette clicked the door shut behind her and rushed over to his bedside, taking his hand in hers at once. Bloody mess or not, she didn't seem to mind. She lightly grazed her thumb over his rough skin as she examined the bizarre breathing mask on his face.

"Paul…" Stephanie whimpered helplessly. She didn't even know what else to say; his name falling from her lips was a natural response. Intuitively, her eyes kept scanning over his body and the more they did, the more awful she felt. No one had bothered to notify her of the severity of his injury, and she'd literally just found out what hospital he had been transported to twenty minutes ago. Extending her arm cautiously, she moved her hand underneath his eye and tenderly wiped away a smudge of blood with the end of her cotton sleeve. "I'm…I'm so sorry this happened, Paul…I…I…"

Of course. She was blaming herself for this, in typical Stephanie McMahon fashion. While her on-screen persona was maniacal and manipulative, the real Stephanie couldn't be more of the opposite. Taking the blame for something that no one could have prevented was so classic Steph.

He parted his lips to speak before remembering that no words would come out, even using the little strength he could muster. Well, shit. The woman looked like she was about have a fucking panic attack, and all he could do was reassure her with a gentle squeeze of the hand or blink of his eyes. Clearly, that wasn't working though, as the moisture on her cheeks became more and more apparent.

_Don't cry_, he thought to himself. But it was merely a thought. A thought and nothing more, for that was all it may ever be.

"I saw the…the…RVD…and Frog Splash…and…and…" she stuttered, in between vigorous sniffles. On any other day, he would have cut off her distressed rant and held her in his arms, soothingly rocking her back and forth. His warmth would ease her sobbing and the feel of her back pressed against his chest would cause a genuine smile to grace his lips. All in all, friendship had never well and truly exterminated the inescapable feelings he had for her. They would always be there, like a nagging, chronic illness that just doesn't ever subside.

_God, Stephanie, please don't cry! _

"Oh, Paul, when they told me it was your trachea that might have collapsed…I…I…was so worried. I rushed right over. I don't know what I would do…if…if something were to happen…I'm just relieved you're okay…"

If he could sigh, he would have in that moment. Really, it depended what definition of "okay" they were referring to here. Would he live? Yes. The swelling was serious, but not enough to cut off his oxygen – if monitored properly, of course. But the more relevant question in this case was would he ever speak again? Well, that was doubtful. The force inflicted upon his vocal cords was perhaps enough to scar him with a permanent speaking disability for life.

Yet, with all of these thoughts racing through his head, only one thing was significant, and that was the woman clinging to his bedside, her face flooded with worry. His health and future were unimportant for the time being. This moment, right now, was all that mattered. Stephanie was here. His _friend_, Stephanie, was here, but he needed her to know that to him, she was so much more. Tonight had really put things in perspective for him. Every night he walked down that ramp and stepped inside that rope-surrounded square, he was putting both his body and life on the line. One move, one botch could end it all, even in a second's time. So as he got thinking, Paul realized that he had to do this. If there was ever a time and a place for it, it was here and now. He didn't want to waste another moment shielding these feelings from her. God forbid something ever happen to him while she was still in the dark about all of this. God forbid she left this hospital and something took a turn for the worst during recovery. If it weren't for the communication barrier, he so would have professed his love for her the second she stepped through the door.

Sensing his frustration, Stephanie tensed up.

"What is it, Paul? Do you need something? Can I get you anything?"

As best as he could, he shook his head no, ensuring that the movement was subtle and wouldn't cause him any unnecessary pain. He held onto her hand, finding a bit of tranquility in her touch. She was so close, but so far out of reach. She was right here for the taking, but not for him to have. More insufferable frustration. Unsure how to cope, Paul did the only thing he could think of. He shut his eyes tightly – so tight that the only thing in view was darkness. Pure, utter darkness.

"Paul? Are you in pain? Do you need a nurse?" she pondered frantically.

_No, you, that's what I need. _

Instead, he opened his eyes and shook his head. Despite the fact that he couldn't breathe correctly, and therefore couldn't smell either, Paul knew the room must have reeked of blood. His blood. The same blood that now stained the sleeve of Stephanie's shirt and the skin of her hand. She didn't deserve this. He was aware of her abhorrence for hospitals, and she was probably dreading every moment she was stuck here.

Using all the willpower he had left, Paul lifted his hand to her face and gently brushed his fingertips against her dimpled chin. Her lips upturned into a bittersweet smile as a solitary tear travelled down her face. She already knew. She knew that he may never speak again, for she had discussed the matters with the doctors on the way in. Stephanie didn't care though. Just because the words couldn't be heard didn't mean they weren't there. Though she would miss his witty retorts and sarcastic remarks, she could get over it. He was still the Paul Levesque he had always been, and well, that was good enough for her.

Removing his hand from her face, Stephanie opened her palm, and positioned his hand so that his pointed index finger was lightly touching her skin. He crinkled his brow in confusion. Catching his drift, Stephanie then moved his finger so that he traced the letter "A" on her palm. For the first time tonight, he almost smiled. If Paul couldn't communicate with his voice, this was surely the next best thing.

"Tell me what you're thinking," she hushed, urging him on.

Her pleading blue orbs gave him the strength required to thrust aside any reluctance and fulfill her request. Slowly, he traced out his message, letter by letter, word by word. His fingertips were cool against her clammy palms. And with each addition, Stephanie mouthed the letter under her breath softly, until Paul drew his hand back to show that he was finished. Stephanie, now a sobbing mess, grabbed his hand back and brought his knuckles to her lips, where she let them hover. In all honesty, she lost it by "V," and there was no going back now.

She had struggled for years and years to suppress her feelings for this man – to even go as far as pretending they were nonexistent. But the horrible, sinful truth was that they _did_ exist. She _did_ get butterflies in her stomach with every glance he sent her way. She _did_ undress him with her eyes when he was looking elsewhere. She _did_ lie awake at night, wondering what could have been and what still would be, if only they had taken what they had and ran with it. Because what they had was something special – something so rare and pure, like that once-in-a-lifetime love you believe only exists in dreams. Had it not been for her father's influence and their standings in the company, her midnight fantasies would without a doubt be part of a much greater reality.

Now…now, they could be.

"Paul, I love you so much," she admitted, partially anxious, partially in shock. She squeezed his hand tighter. His hazel eyes were wide, and she knew it was killing him that he couldn't reply. Paul always had something to say, whether he was willing to insert some sort of sarcasm or just something genuinely sweet that made her heart flutter uncontrollably. "I would kiss you, if I could," she giggled. He crinkled his brow, in mock hurt. "Don't worry, it's coming though. You can hold me to that one."

He was happy. There was no questioning that.

Actually, he was fucking ecstatic. All of his doubts could be dismissed as of right now, because the woman he loved felt the same way about him, and from where he was lying, it seemed as if she was willing to give things another go. That was the good news.

And the bad news?

_This_ was only a fraction of what their relationship would be, should they choose to explore that route. Maybe now it seemed manageable, but on a larger scale, there was bound to be hesitancy, miscommunications, and just overall aggravation. Stephanie needed to let the truth sink in before she committed to something she wasn't ready for. She needed to sit and really consider what she was dealing with here. He. Couldn't. Fucking. Talk. He was wordless…silent…_mute_. The closest thing they could ever have to a conversation would need to include him writing everything down on paper for her to see visually. When only he was present, her ears would be of little use. And Paul didn't want this for her. She deserved better, so much better…


	2. Coping

So, yep, I lied about this being a two-shot. It's actually going to be three parts…as of right now. :) This chapter isn't too long, but I'm really hoping the third chapter will be the final one lol. Enjoy!

* * *

A soft sigh fell from her lips as she delicately threaded her fingers through his hair, allowing her hand to eventually trail all the way down his muscular back. She ran her fingertips along his spine, his tanned skin balmy against hers. His face was completely buried in the cotton pillow, while his tangled locks cascaded over the area and his upper body rose and fell at a steady pace. She took pleasure in listening to his almost silent snoring. He looked so…at peace with the world, and more importantly, with himself.

But looks could be deceiving and no matter how hard he tried to convince her otherwise, Stephanie knew the truth. Underneath the cheeky grins and snarky smirks, he was suffering. Remorse ate away at his insides and consumed every square inch of who he was. He was blaming himself for the tragedy that had occurred and thought that she deserved more than what he could give her. How exceptionally wrong he was though.

Over the past year, Paul Levesque had given her more than any human being ever had. He gave her the unconditional, undying love that she craved. He replaced her doubts with certainties, her frowns with smiles. He gave her life meaning again by restoring what they once had. Only this time, they weren't going to let go. They were going to hold onto this love so tight, with so much force, that it turned blue in the face and made their knuckles white. Living without this man was no longer an option. When they were apart, she only felt like half of herself. It was weird actually. All those years she had spent alone, something always felt off, but she couldn't quite pinpoint the issue. Now that she had Paul in her life again, there was no need to speculate for even another second. He was the missing piece.

Of course, it had taken a rather unfortunate incident to bring them together, and that sucked, but that was also life. However, that still didn't justify what had happened. The only thing that had conspired against him in the ring that night was fate. It merely took one failed execution of a move to leave him with a handicap that was seemingly permanent. And Stephanie couldn't really explain to him why bad things happened to good people. She was beginning to think an explanation didn't even exist, so instead, she just assured him that she would love him no matter what. At the end of the day, that was more than enough for Paul.

Stirring out of his slumber, he rolled indolently onto his side until he was lying face to face with Stephanie. Her hand dropped to the mattress from his bare back, her eyes locking on his face automatically. The faint rays of sun seeping in through the window gave his skin a glowing effect. She took note of his somnolent features and the way his eyelids were twitching to stay open.

"Morning, baby," she whispered as she scooted closer to him.

Paul wrapped one arm around her waist and pulled her body to his, reveling in the sensation that washed over him at the contact. She nestled her head into his shoulder, her fingertips gently roaming over his bare chest. He pressed his lips to her forehead and let his mouth hover there momentarily. God knows it was all his mouth was good for nowadays. He tried not to dwell on that though. Thoughts of kissing Stephanie – every _inch_ of Stephanie – caused a slight smile to form on his face. But his upturned lips soon fell into a frown, because this morning, they didn't have time for activities as such.

"I know," Stephanie agreed, reaching up to caress his stubble. A wicked glint decorated her stare and he had to admit, he loved when she looked at him like that. The woman was always up to no good, seducing him day and night, and whatnot. "Maybe later in the afternoon we can…that is, if you're up for it, Levesque."

He wiggled his eyebrows mischievously before literally attacking her neck with his mouth, sending her into a wild fit of giggling.

_I'm always up for it, McMahon._

"Paul…Paul…PAUL! Stop!" He pulled away at once, tilting his head to the side naively. Stephanie stroked his bottom lip with the pad of her thumb. "You know I want to…" she started, but her voice trailed off into silence. She was remarkably horrible at trying to persuade him of something when she couldn't even persuade herself. The attempt came across as rather pathetic. "I just…I just don't want us to be late to _another_ appointment. I haven't even showered, and I still have a million things to do."

He carefully grabbed her wrist and began to trace the letters against her palm. For short phrases, this was a tolerable technique.

_Don't stress._

She couldn't stifle her smile at his genuine concern. "I'm trying not to, but you know better than anyone else how difficult that is for me," she chuckled.

Times like these were when Paul really wished he could talk, even if it was only for a few seconds. He would give a reply that would ease her worry, but there would always be that underlying snarky that she loved so much. By now, Stephanie had probably forgotten what his voice sounded like. He didn't blame her though, for he wasn't quite sure he could recall it either.

The thing that killed him most was that he never had the chance to say those three words that every woman wanted to hear – key word being _hear_. Their first relationship never reached that stage, but back then, he never realized how serious his feelings were anyways. Not until she had slipped through his fingers, to a place where she was so close, but so far out of reach. Surely, she knew that he loved her at this point, but saying it was so much different than writing it down on paper or tracing it on her hand. Saying the words meant so much more.

"Come on," she hushed, tugging his arm affectionately. She could sense he was going to that place – that place where not even she, who knew him like the back of her hand, could help him. Emptiness filled his stare, his expression blank and unreadable. Almost like he was slipping away from her. Sometimes she feared that he was, and there was nothing she could to do to stop that. A part of him would always be slightly broken. And no, she wasn't talking about his voice. They were currently seeing specialists and exploring their options in regards to that. But Paul was broken in his mind, a result of the brutal trauma he had suffered. She would give anything to fix that, but it appeared as if he was already broken beyond repair…

* * *

The waiting room was moderately filled, but surprisingly silent, given the number of people occupying it. Paul couldn't even count how many different waiting rooms they had visited over the course of twelve months. More than the average human should have to, that was for sure. The road to a possible recovery was without a doubt a long and inconsistent one. Sometimes they received good news, and sometimes bad. For that reason, they were always searching for new doctors or being referred to different ones. The one thing that hadn't been inconsistent thus far was that Stephanie was always by his side, and he wasn't expecting that to change anytime soon. Even if she did grow tired of him, she wasn't the type to just up and leave when the going got tough. Stephanie was a fighter, and he was going to be one as well. He wanted to deserve her. He wanted to deserve _this_.

"Hey," she started, squeezing his thigh tenderly. Her hand was burning him through the denim material of his jeans, but maybe that was the anxiety speaking. Only then did Paul realize he was practically creating a hole in the tile what with the way his foot was tapping furiously. "Now it's my turn to tell you to relax. Just breathe and everything will be perfectly fine. Do you trust me?"

His eyes wandered and observed the floor for a few seconds before reluctantly meeting with hers. He did trust her, more than anyone else in the entire universe. And if he had to choose anyone he would want to go through this with, it would be her. Always her. Interlocking his fingers with hers, he nodded, putting an end to some of his restlessness.

"Good. I'm going to love you no matter what, you big dork."

Slowly, Paul lifted her hand to his mouth and brushed his lips against her knuckle. That was just one of his many unspoken ways of expressing his love for her. In response, she leaned her head against his shoulder, feeling the automatic heat rise to her face. For some reason, public display of affection still did that to her. Hell, _private_ display of affection did, too. Only with Paul though. She glanced over in his direction.

His leg was now shaking vigorously, the restlessness resuming. The frantic movements were involuntary, and he wouldn't be able to stop them, in spite of how hard he tried. He just couldn't calm down at the moment. His nerves were refusing to settle, which was odd. They had been to tons of appointments before, and his composure had never failed him all of those times. But this time…this time, it was different. This particular appointment wasn't for him.

"Stephanie McMahon."

Both of their heads shot up in unison upon hearing the nurse call her name. This was it. Stephanie rose from her seat first, then Paul from his. She paused to beam up at him excitedly, and all he could do was hope for the best as he placed a hand on her rounded stomach...


	3. Hospital Chaos & Happy Endings

Oh my God, guys, I can change the status of this story to complete, score! Now I can work on...well, everything else. Thanks a bunch to everyone who's been reading and reviewing. Hope you enjoy this final part. :)

* * *

Stephanie shifted in the chair for the umpteenth time that hour, completely unmindful as it creaked beneath her. She was restless, and when she was restless, she had an awful tendency to fidget. Legs trembling and hands unsteady, she released a slow, shaky breath that she had been holding in for awhile now. Her heart was thumping violently, and despite the shielding cage of rib bones, she was almost positive it was about to beat out of her chest. Instinctively, she cradled her swollen stomach, trailing her fingertips over it in unhurried, affectionate paths. Her nerves were still unsettled, but the gesture did make her feel somewhat calmer. She reveled in the sensation that arose when she felt a subtle movement inside of her.

The unborn child was merely a month away from gracing the world with his or her arrival. Yes, his _or_ her, for they had requested not to be informed of the gender of their baby. Their baby. Stephanie loved saying that, or even just thinking about it like she was now. The corners of her mouth lifted into a lazy, automatic grin as she continued to stroke her bump. The little miracle inside of her was not just hers, but Paul's, too, and it was the most beautiful evidence one could ask for of their everlasting love.

It was a love that was not supposed to exist. After all, he was Paul Levesque, while she was Stephanie McMahon, and that much alone was enough to make the romance forbidden. The influences surrounding them hindered their relationship, but it was too late to reverse the sinful feelings that be. Their hearts had already meshed, and the separate webs that were their respective lives had already tangled. He was everything she needed, and vice-versa.

So when they were forced to break it off, they each lost a colossal part of who they were.

Time and distance should have extinguished the flame, but they didn't. If anything, the wretched severance only ignited it even more. He wanted her, he loved her. She wanted him, she loved him. It should have been so simple, because when people feel the same way about each other, that's supposed to make life simple, right?

Wrong, in this case at least. They knew they had to stay apart, but when they were apart, they were both a little broken, both a little lost. They couldn't seem to find themselves on their own, and that resulted in the eventual friendship that formed between them. With friendship, they were no longer violating all that was good and pure. They could be around one another, and for those short periods of time, they felt alive.

But once time was up and it was time to part their separate ways, returning to the lives that were their own, they were broken and lost all over again. Misery filled their hearts, and they found their souls to be inexplicably empty. But that was friendship. It was bland and dull and seemingly unbearable, but it was better than nothing.

Misfortune had changed all of that though, for it brought them together, and it made them see sensibly. That night in the hospital, Paul may have been physically damaged and Stephanie an emotional mess, but that became irrelevant, because for the first time in a long time, they were whole again. They were going to do this, in spite of what everyone else thought, because at the end of the day, they were just humans, and they deserved happiness just as much as the next person.

And taking that risk ultimately led to the greatest accomplishment of their lives.

"Hi baby," Stephanie cooed, her eyes migrating downward. "It's only Mommy here right now. I just wanted to say that I love you so, so much." She paused, utterly oblivious to the fact that she was still sitting in a hospital waiting area. For these few precious moments, it was just her and the baby, and with the addition of Paul, that was all she would ever need. "Daddy loves you too, you know," she went on. "He's having surgery right now though, so he's not here, but I promise you're going to hear his voice soon, little one. Soon."

It was a promise she had made herself as well. She had faith. Even though vocal cord transplants were relatively innovative procedures in the scientific community and there was always room for human error, she knew her boyfriend. He was stronger than anyone she had ever met, and he would not give up without a fight. Of that, she was certain.

Exhaling softly, her lips twitched into a vague smile. She settled back into the seat, her muscles seeking relaxation. The beat of her heart dwindled until it steadied at a slow, unwavering rhythm. The shakiness in her limbs vanished, and her feet no longer drummed away fretfully at the tiled floor. It was almost uncanny. The trembling seemed to subside all at once and was subsequently replaced with an abnormal stillness.

It was the calm before the storm.

Because the next thing she knew, an excruciatingly sharp pain washed over the entirety of her abdomen, followed by a sudden wetness and series of harrowing contractions.

Her water just broke.

* * *

"I can't do…this! I…I can't!" she wailed, gripping the metal rails of the bed for support.

"Yes, you can. You're doing great, Stephanie," one of the nurses encouraged.

"I'm really not…I really don't know what I'm doing and…oh, GOD!"

Stephanie let out a heavy groan as a bead of sweat trickled down the side of her face. Her skin was searing, and from the neck down, everything was throbbing with indescribable ache. She'd never experienced such pain in her life, and it was beyond frustrating. Everyone she had ever spoken to made out childbirth to be a beautiful thing, and sure, when the baby actually arrived, it was bound to turn into a magnificent moment, but right now? Right now, she was on the verge of threading her fingers through her damp, chestnut strands and just tearing out every last one of them.

It was all too much. She was slipping away. The pain was too much to handle, and now she felt everything slowly starting to fade to black. She clenched her teeth, her entire body tensing at once as another contraction overcame her. They were occurring more violently and frequently now, and she just wasn't sure how much more she could take.

"Come on, Stephanie, just hang in there, and pretty soon, we'll have you start pushing," the doctor urged.

"I can't."

"Yes, you can. You're doing great," she said.

"I can't!"

"Yes, you can," the doctor repeated.

"No!" she cried.

"You can, Steph."

And in that moment, the room succumbed to a quaint silence, because the voice that had spoken did not belong to the doctor, and it didn't even belong to a nurse. It was a voice that was unfamiliar, but too familiar. A voice she hadn't heard in what seemed like forever.

Someway, somehow, it was him.

Tears would have sprung from her eyes right then and there, had it not been for the fact that they were still shut. But the tears were brewing. They were unshed, but they were there, her lids like floodgates on the brink of opening. A few must have spilled over unknowingly though, because the next thing she sensed was the pad of his thumb grazing over her cheek, gently wiping away the moisture.

"Hey," he whispered, "I'm right here."

She felt his hand enclose around her much smaller, much clammier one. His touch was always comforting and welcomed, but she craved the sound of his voice. She needed to hear it again. It was quiet – almost a croak – but she had heard it, and she knew it had to be real. But just to be certain this wasn't a dream or purely a figment of her imagination, she opened her eyes cautiously, only to be greeted by his tender, hazel ones.

"You _are_ here," she pointed out in amazement. Paul nodded, his shoulders shaking as he silently chuckled. "And…and you can talk, Paul," she added quietly. He squeezed her hand, causing her to eyebrows to lift suspiciously. "Wait, you can talk, right? I didn't just imagine that?"

"I can talk, Steph."

She briefly touched his lips with the hand he wasn't holding.

"You can talk," she repeated.

"You said that already, silly," he murmured. "Oh, but haven't you heard? That's old news, because the first thing I'm told when I wake up is that my extremely pregnant girlfriend went into labor and has been relocated to some other wing of the hospital."

Stephanie giggled, placing his hand on her belly, still drinking in every word he uttered.

"Sorry."

"Hey, I'm not complaining," Paul explained. "Two miracles in one day, I've got no problem with that."

"Honey, at this rate, we'll be lucky if the baby arrives by next week," she joked.

"Yeah? Well, maybe our little one was just waiting for Daddy to get here before making an appearance."

"Right, right," she muttered, winking in the direction of the medical staff before looking back at Paul. She leaned in for a good luck peck on the lips, which he gladly met her halfway for, and then adjusted herself into the appropriate position. "Well, I guess this is it…let's…let's have a baby."

* * *

"She's perfect."

The sincerity and adulation in her tone wholly summed up how Paul was feeling right now. Beaming, his eyes drifted from Stephanie to the sleeping perfection nestled in her arms. She was unbelievably tiny, but every time she captured his stare, his heart swelled with love, and he couldn't seem to stop his eyes from growing misty. The way her dark lashes rested upon the tops of her rosy cheeks…the way her pudgy fingers were balled into little fists…the way her chest rose and fell in a subtle, steady motion as she breathed…it was so much to absorb all at once. He had helped create something so beautiful, so full of life, and now here she was before his very eyes.

"I think she takes after Mommy," he commented, his voice still a bit raspy.

"She's like, two hours old, Paul. It's too soon to tell," she laughed. Paul lifted one shoulder in a shrug and smiled nonetheless. "But if you're implying that I'm perfect, well, I really can't argue there."

"So modest you are, love."

"Hey, you're pretty perfect, too, big guy," she added, lightly nudging him with her shoulder.

"So it's unanimous. Both you and I are perfect, and we make even more perfect babies," he mumbled, as he lightly brushed their daughter's hand with his fingertip that was equal in size.

"That we do," Stephanie whispered in agreement.

She adjusted the soft, pink baby blanket and pulled the child a bit closer into her chest, reveling in the feel of her warmth. Her eyes now settled on Paul, seeing that the baby wouldn't be stirring out of her relatively deep slumber anytime soon.

In the midst of the recent turmoil, Stephanie hardly had a chance to dwell on the other miracle that their new, little family had been blessed with today. She reached out for Paul's hand, and he wasted not a second grabbing hers. Honestly, she didn't realize how much she missed his words, and now that they were back, it was like they had never left. His voice was still incredibly hoarse, but it was expected to return to its normal state as his recovery progressed. She couldn't be more thrilled though, not only over the fact that she would get to hear it, but because she knew that he missed hearing it, too. He would forever feel like he lost a part of himself without his voice and would always feel unworthy of their relationship. But now, she saw something different in his stare – something that she had been anticipating for quite a long time, and it was something that gave her hope for the future.

Paul looked whole again.

"Tell me what you're thinking about," he prompted, leaning forward so that his elbows could rest on the hospital bed, the tips of his long, blonde strands tickling the skin of her arm.

"You, of course," she replied simply.

"So I'm a topic of interest, eh?"

He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a faint blush to stain her cheeks as she giggled and nodded. "Maybe."

"Do I get to hear some of these thoughts?" he pondered.

"Well, I was just thinking about your voice and how much I love it."

Paul smiled, for a part of him was hoping that was the subject of her thoughts. It was certainly something prevalent in his. Without question, their silent romance had been wonderful and everything he could have asked for, but this was truly what they wanted…both of them. It's what they wanted for themselves, and more importantly, for their daughter. He couldn't even fathom the idea of his little girl going through life, not ever knowing what her daddy sounded like. Stephanie had lived like that for over a year, and honestly, he hated it. He hated not being able to say something witty when she set him up for it, or compliment her when she looked beautiful – which was every single day, or even just say her name. But he was done thinking about the past. This was the present, and from where he was sitting, the future was looking pretty damn bright.

"So honey, would you like to do the honors?"

He snapped out of his daze upon hearing her question. "What honors?" he asked, somewhat intrigued.

"The honors of welcoming our little girl into the world…now that she seems to be awake, you know."

Paul's eyes landed on the delicate face and wide open eyes that were now staring back at him. An utter look of fascination was plastered on her face as she took in the world around her, but mostly, she focused on her father, analyzing his every movement. Everything was so big and new to her. And she may have been one person in this universe, but to her parents, she _was_ their entire universe. His breath taken away, Paul reached out to gently touch her hand. His hazel orbs lit up instantly as she wrapped her tiny digits around his much larger one.

"Welcome to the world, Aurora Rose," he murmured before lowering his head to kiss her cheek.

"Mommy and Daddy love you so much," Stephanie gushed, causing Aurora to glance up at her inquisitively. Paul couldn't help but smile, wondering what he did to deserve all this, as he continued to watch the interaction among the two girls who meant everything to him.

"Oh, I almost forgot…" he began, scooting forward to the edge of his seat.

"Forgot what?"

The remaining distance between them ceased to exist as he moved toward her, until they were so close that their faces were all but touching. Her scent was invigorating, and she looked stunning as ever, even under the dimmed lights. All of his dreams were being made realities, and it was all due to this woman.

Today and for the rest of his days, he could properly say those three words to her.

"I love you, Steph."

Then he pressed his lips to hers in a loving, languid kiss, and in that moment that they kissed, they were the only two people in the world, and everything was mute.


End file.
